Passion, that thing of beauty, that flowering without roots, has to be born, live and die without reason.
All the goodness, beauty, and perfection of a human being belong to the one who knows how to recognize these qualities.
To live is often only to have a choice of several despairs.
a personality devoted uniquely to its own development absorbs other lives.
Without imagination, nothing is dangerous.
we can search for and attain to only one being, that one which was given us, which is within us and which awaits its birth from ourselves. Each day I feel that I leave myself a little more, the better to go toward my encounter with myself.